


e for effort (a for adore)

by wandr



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Library, Fluff, M/M, exam cram, happyanniversaryswn!, soft kissies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 01:03:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11886645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandr/pseuds/wandr
Summary: It’s a week before midterms and the college library isthis closeto asking Wonwoo for rent. Soonyoung comes to keep him company, amongst other things.





	e for effort (a for adore)

**Author's Note:**

> salutations! here's a super tinie thing that i wrote for soonwoonet's anniversary fluff fest. i wish i could've completed the bigger fic i had planned in time... but i hope this is an okay (temporary!) replacement.
> 
> to swn: i really feel so lucky to be a part of such a kind, welcoming and supportive group of people. though i have trouble articulating it, you guys truly mean the world to me and i'm so glad that the universe/fate/gravity etc. was in my favour enough to have met you all. i love our ever-growing family of mothers/aunts/elderly (though 98z will always dominate), our shared adoration for these two dorky, loving boys, and feel so eternally grateful for all the kindness i've been shown in the short time i've known you all. happy 1st birthday soonwoonet, and i look forward to the birthdays to come!
> 
> note: this was written in two nights, and is massively unedited, and i am making a lot of excuses right now, but i hope it's a Good Time nevertheless. enjoy!

Wonwoo’s a good student, really.  
  
Unlike most college students his age, he actually pays attention during class; opting to painstakingly hand-write notes while the guy two rows down catches up on the latest episode of Game of Thrones (okay, sometimes he peeks over his shoulder and watches, too). He’s not much of an outside-the-dorm person, save for the occasional bar show, so sleeping in to nurse a hangover hasn’t been much of an issue for him, either (his roommate Jun, on the other hand, is a completely different story). And, unlike Jun, Wonwoo especially doesn’t skip class to flirt with the short, red-haired barista who works at the college cafe (he’s turned down every time; Wonwoo doesn’t know why he still bothers).  
  
Really, Wonwoo’s a good student.  
  
It’s just that it’s hard to concentrate when you have a boyfriend who’s _that_ cute.  
  
Since he and Soonyoung got together last semester, Wonwoo’s grades have grossly plummeted (Soonyoung thinks he's being overdramatic; how are Bs close to being bad?). You see, Wonwoo started going out a lot more post-Soonyoung— and, by consequence, has spent a lot less time hitting the books. Pre-Soonyoung, Wonwoo would never have dreamed of attending a college versus college quidditch match (Soonyoung's friend Seokmin is the team’s star player; they always win), or society events equally as wacky as _Dreamworks x Disney Cosplay Night_ (they go as Po and Mushu and receive Best Dressed, naturally).  
  
But if Wonwoo’s completely honest, he's come to enjoy going out since meeting Soonyoung. He smiles more; laughs, uninhibited. He would've had a boring life without Soonyoung, he thinks.  
  
Yet, his grades suffer nevertheless. They try studying together, but Wonwoo just can't do it. His peripheral always betrays him, catches the way Soonyoung tilts his head and squints when he’s thinking hard, lightly chews the tip of his pen. His breathing slows when he's focussed, Wonwoo’s noticed; eyes sharpen, concentrating.  
  
Soonyoung just. Exists. And it's distracting.  
  
So, Wonwoo’s placed a temporary ban on his boyfriend.  
  
He sits, alone, at a gray table beside a row of bookshelves. There’s a dingy yellow glow shrouding the room and a weight just beginning to tug at his eyelids, but he’s sworn to himself that he won’t leave until the last set of Psych notes are revised, at the least.  
  
It’s 11pm and by now even the most dedicated of students have gone home; only Wonwoo and a sprinkling of outliers remain. He spends a lot of time in the library— if the college library were given the opportunity to charge him rent they’d snatch it in a heartbeat. It’s open every day until midnight, and Wonwoo takes full advantage of this generous curfew (and not only to study— he’s _made sure_ now to be given advance warning from Jun so he never again walks into things that he’ll never forget, no matter how many times he scrapes a scourer against his brain).  
  
Accordingly, Wonwoo’s come to be well-acquainted with the homely building, as familiar to him now as the back of his hand. He’s in the lowest level, currently; a soundproofed room where few venture and crusty gray bookshelves stretch on for miles into the yellow dimness. It’s heaven.  
  
It’s quiet.  
  
It’s always like that, when Soonyoung’s not around. It’s not that Wonwoo enjoys noise, most of the time, but it’s a different kind of noise altogether with Soonyoung; something soft and muted, a warm timber varnish. Wonwoo lays his pen atop his notebook, gently, and takes off his glasses. He wonders if Chan’s still having trouble with his notes. Soonyoung’s kind like that— he didn’t even hesitate to offer help to his freshman friend when he saw him stressed over his chemistry mid-term (though, admittedly, Soonyoung himself failed chemistry his first time around). Wonwoo can’t even begin to imagine a life without Soonyoung anymore— in the short time they’ve known each other he’s managed to embed himself deep into Wonwoo’s core, roots tightly intertwined.  
  
Wonwoo's snapped out of his reverie at the sound of a metal chair leg scraping against the concrete floor and a jean-clad body stumbling forward. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.  
  
Soonyoung? Wonwoo squints at the blurry form flailing towards him before reaching to put his glasses back on, checking his phone. “You’re still helping Chan? It’s almost midnight.”  
  
“Hello to you too, stranger.” Soonyoung wobbily recomposes himself, attempting to smooth down his loose, white tee. “And yup, he’s on the ground floor and pulling his hair into his notebook. But,” he says as he drags a half-ripped beanbag towards Wonwoo, “I wanted to take a break and spend some time with my cryptid boyfriend.”  
  
Wonwoo stares at the spindly redness at the corners of Soonyoung's eyes. “Are you high?”  
  
Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “You’re killing me Jeon. But no. I’ve had, like, five Red Bulls in the past twenty-four hours and I think I’m starting to crash.” He plops onto the beanbag, little foam puffs spilling from the rip like grains from a sack of rice. He leans his head against Wonwoo’s hipbone, mumbles into the black fabric of his shirt. “You can’t ban me forever, you know.”  
  
Wonwoo tenses, slightly, at the deep vibrations that Soonyoung’s voice sends into his chest. He tries to ignore the flush he feels beginning to warm his neck— but, once again, his peripheral betrays him. The head that’s lazily resting on his hipbone is tilted upwards, just, exposing through bangs a pair of half-lidded eyes. Wonwoo shifts just a fraction to take a closer look. Soonyoung eyes aren’t closed, completely— they only seem to be so, hidden beneath his short, bristly eyelashes. Wonwoo wonders how it’d feel to brush against them with his thumb.  
  
He doesn’t have much time to entertain the thought, because less than a second later there’s a smirk. “Got you.” With a tug Wonwoo’s brought tumbling from his seat and onto the beanbag. On top of Soonyoung.  
  
It takes Wonwoo’s brain a moment to catch up on the series of events, let alone the goddamn mood whiplash that has just unfurled in the past two or three seconds— but then it does.  
  
“You complete shit.”  
  
Soonyoung shifts his head to the side slightly, enough so that his mouth isn’t muffled by Wonwoo’s neck and that he can smell something besides the sweat that’s accumulated on his boyfriend’s collarbone. “Desperate times, desperate measures. Take a break, Wonwoo-yah, you’re overworking yourself.” He reaches a hand to smooth back Wonwoo’s hair and smiles. “Listen to Natasha Bedingfield.”  
  
“I’ve got a love and I know that it’s all mine?” Wonwoo deadpans.  
  
“Yes, but no. Release your inhibitions.”  
  
Honestly, Wonwoo would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. But then he looks behind him apprehensively, as well as to his right. Three students remaining, facing in the opposite direction, with headphones on. Three students too many. “We’re in a fucking library Soonyoung,” Wonwoo hisses, hushed, “We could get tried for indecent exposure.”  
  
Soonyoung abruptly puts a hand to Wonwoo’s face. “Hold it right there Mrs. Robinson. Nobody said anything about getting naked.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “This is what happens when you ban me for all of cram week.”  
  
Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “I thought that’s what you were imply— just, nevermind.” He reaches a hand out to cup Soonyoung’s cheek, defeated, voice quieting. “Being with you is zero or a hundred, Soonyoung. No in-between.” Soonyoung smiles, accepting the scratchy warmth of Wonwoo’s hand. From this angle, Wonwoo can make out every lash adorning Soonyoung’s eyes. He reaches out a thumb from where it sits on Soonyoung’s cheek, and brushes it against the bristly hairs. “Follow me.”  
  
Wonwoo takes him, by the hand, down the mile-long shelves that line the room like pews in a church. He takes him down the aisle, to a corner hidden from the rest of the world. He peers behind his shoulder, one last time, before moving in.  
  
Soonyoung is full of energy, usually. But this night— in this quiet library, in this quiet hour creeping up to the minutes of the early morning— he’s uncharacteristically slow. Wonwoo feels it in the way his hand, soft, curls at the nape of his neck, finger by finger, brushing at the fine hairs that creep together towards his spine. There’s a slowness too in the way that Soonyoung’s mouth moves against his, in the rise and fall of their chests, Soonyoung’s back pressed against the book-filled shelves. Wonwoo feels a lick against his lip and slackens his jaw.  
  
It’s not a tantalizing slowness, Wonwoo thinks, as he moves a hand to curl into the fabric at Soonyoung’s waist. It’s calming, affectionate. If Wonwoo could compare it to anything, no matter how abstract, it would be to drawing a conch shell to your ear; listening to the tumbling of waves as they crash onto a distant shore.  
  
And that’s how Wonwoo feels Soonyoung is— powerful and infinite, in the way that the ocean always appears to be from the shoreline. But there’s the subtlety, too, the quietness he reserves for Wonwoo in moments like these; the blue, settled deep beneath the surface and felt only when you inch forward, toe your way into the open sea.  
  
They pause, for a moment. Wonwoo opens eyes he hadn’t realised were closed. Soonyoung’s eyes open, too. In times like these, Wonwoo wonders if Soonyoung can read his thoughts— or, at the least, see his soul through the windows of his eyes.  
  
“I like you.” Wonwoo breathes it more than he says it, more of a realisation than a statement.  
  
Soonyoung laughs. “I see you haven’t lost your way with words. Good.” He smiles again, pulling the hand that was resting on the jut of Wonwoo’s hip to smooth back his boyfriend's messy mop of a head. They laugh, at nothing in particular.  
  
" _Attention students— the library will be closing in ten minutes. Please make your way to the exit. Good night._ "  
  
As if on cue, Wonwoo feels a buzzing from Soonyoung's jeans. He smiles into his cheek. “There’s Chan. Hopefully not pulling his hair out anymore.”  
  
“He’s a smart kid, he’ll do fine,” Soonyoung says through a warm smile, reaching to his pocket to turn off his phone. There’s more buzzing a second later, albeit from his stomach. He lets out a groan, instantly regretting spending his dinner money on a six-pack of Red Bull instead of proper forms of sustenance. Retracting his hand to scratch at his own head, he smiles at Wonwoo, sheepish.  
  
“Ramen?”  
  
Wonwoo laughs, uninhibited.  
  
“Ramen.” 

**Author's Note:**

> woop for kissies!


End file.
